Pip's Eyes
by Culumacilinte
Summary: It's 12 years after the War of the Ring, and Pippin is haunted by dreams of Frodo. I've fixed it! Made it better! It now has paragraph breaks, and Navaer Lailath, if that's your name- I fixed the accents in 'namarie'.


Chapter One: The Dream

Summary: It's ten years after the War of the Ring, and Pippin is haunted by dreams of Frodo

Disclaimer: I don't own LotR, The Silmarillion, The Hobbit, or The Books of Unfinished Tales...damn. 

The sun was setting. Pippin found that he was aboard a ship.

"Now what in..."

He started to speak, but trailed off. He recognized this ship, it was elvish; its prow shaped like a swan. This was the same ship that had carried Frodo to the Undying Lands nigh on ten years ago.

"Am I goin' t'the Blessed Realm? What on Arda for? And how'd I get here?"

When no one answered, he looked around, and found that he was alone. He looked to the horizon, squinting hard. A gull circled above, eternally crying for the Elves' departure. Everything reminded him such of his bittersweet farewell to his cousin that he sat down on the silver timbers of the deck and wept.

When Pippin stopped crying he stood up and gazed at the ocean, it really was beautiful. Of course, he had seen it before, but that time his eyes and mind had been clouded with grief, and he'd been unable to appreciate the wonder, the immense, wild loveliness of it. It was a deep steely bluegreengray, its great depth only hinted at, as if the truth was too much for mortal eyes. As he watched, creatures rose up out of the waves. Fish? No, not fish, they were shining, a velvety gray, and longer than a hobbit was tall. As the ship sped on, a fair wind in its sails, they danced and leapt, their curved bodies shining like the unsheathed swords of the men of the lands beyond Far Harad that he had read about. They looked at him steadily, and in their eyes, he saw understanding; they had seen ships before this.

As he looked, it seemed to him that he heard Frodo's voice in his head, as he had heard it many years before, telling of his dreams in the house of Tom Bombadil. '_I dreamt the gray rain curtain of this world parted, and all turned to silver glass, and then I saw it..._his cousin had gone misty eyed at that_... white shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise._' To his surprise, Pippin found himself looking at exactly what his cousin had described. A fierce joy filled him.

'I'll be able to see Frodo and Bilbo... and dear old Gandalf!' he nearly hugged himself, tears leaking once more from his sun-bleached lashes.

When the ship docked, he dashed off, half expecting to see Frodo waiting for him. To his disappointment, the long white shores were barren. 'Oh well', he thought, and took off towards the glittering city.

He heard singing ahead of him; fair elvish voices reminiscent of the kin of Gildor Inglorien he, Frodo, and Sam had met on the way to Crickhollow all those years before- only much better. They sang in the elven tongue- but even with what he had learned in the years since the War he could not understand them, for this was not the Grey-Elven Sindarin spoken by the elves of Middle Earth- this was High-Elven, Quenya. Though did not know the language, the song spoke of long days of peace; fair seas and a high Sun. No, they did not speak of 'sun' and 'sea'- they named them- Uinen, Lady of the Calms, and Arien, who carries still the last fruit of Laurelin the Golden. He gawped at nothing in particular and ran on, calling for Frodo.

"Frodo! Cousin Frodo!"

His voice echoed in the hills. There was no answer. He wondered at that, for before these very hills had been fair teeming with elves. He had been wandering for what seemed like hours without avail- it almost seemed as if he was being avoided. He looked up at the tower upon the hill of Túna- he couldn't remember the name – and resolved to journey up to the top ask where Frodo was.

It was a long trek- and a weary- up to the top of the hill. He knocked, not knowing what else to do, on the great, wrought-metal doors when he reached them. They were opened by a tall elf with raven hair and darkling eyes.

"Welcome, master _perian_- what is it you wish?"

He put a guiding hand on Pippin's back and led him through the big double doors. Pippin began to answer when suddenly the elf threw him to the ground,

"How do you dare, mortal?!" he spat, his eyes turning suddenly cold, "You do not belong here!"

"Wha... why... I was just..."

Pippin spluttered, aghast. Elves weren't supposed to be like this!

"What do you want?" the elf asked.

"I was just... I was looking for my cousin Frodo."

The elf looked at him grimly,

"Whether or no- you have broken the Ban of the Valar, and must be punished."

With a scrape that sent goosebumps rippling up and down Pippin's back, the elf drew his sword. Pippin could only gape- opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water – how could this be happening?

"Namárië, fool mortal." Said the elf and scythed his blade down upon the hobbit's neck.

"Pippin! Peregrin! Wake up! What's wrong?"

Pippin started awake, a slick sheen of cold sweat coating his body, trembling all over.

"No! Get away- just lemme see Frodo! Please..."

Gasping, he flung himself down and put his hands over his neck. As he felt the soft down of the pillows, he slowly came back to himself.

"Oh gor... Di?"

It was his wife, Diamond of Long Cleeve. She had an anxious look on her face as she regarded him,

"Another dream about Frodo, then?"

He nodded

"Aye- pretty much. Sorry, Di. I dunno what it is these days, but... No, forget that, what's for breakfast?"

She smiled, relieved, this was the Pippin she knew.

"Why do you always ask? Anything you like, as usual. We've got eggs, tea, toast, sausage, some muffins; I could cut you some rashers of bacon, seedcake..."

She went into the kitchen and her chatter faded. Pippin sighed, went to the dresser, and rooted around for some clothes. As he dressed, he looked in the mirror.

The years had treated him well. Though he was approaching middle age, he looked much like a robust and energetic hobbit just out of his tweens. The only signs of age were a few wrinkles and his eyes- those seemed ancient. They had seen battle and war, they had seen death, they had seen fell beasts and monsters and wraiths, they had seen madness and despair, and the shadow of terrible dreams lay behind them. Gone were the cheerful, grass green eyes of his youth, they were dull now, and it saddened him.

Beside that, he was still trim and active, though he hardly saw Merry at all anymore, being busy with the Thain's business. He was not the Thain, yet. His father, Paladin, was still alive and well, but he was Thain-in-training, as it were, and he hated it. He sighed, and knotted the scarf he wore all the time, whether there was occasion for it or not, sighed, and made his way to the kitchen. The smell of bacon frying did little to improve his mood.

"D'you want some tea?" He asked wearily. Diamond looked over at him, concern crinkling the corners of her hazel eyes.

"That would be nice, thanks."

Pippin sighed, digging out some of the dried raspberry leaves that were Diamond's favourites from the tea chest.

"Peregrin, love?"

"Aye?"

"Are you quite alright?"

"I-" Pippin started to say he was fine, but left off. "No, not really. I feel- oh, I feel old, Di!"

Diamond made her way over to her distraught husband, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"You know what you ought to do today?"

"What?"

"You should go see Master Meriadoc- have a nice long chat."

Pippin lightly squeezed Diamond's shoulder.

"Thanks. That'll be a nice change from the usual. I think I shall adjourn to my study, is that all right with you?"

She smiled fondly at him, a smile he tried to return, without much success.

"Yes it's fine, dear."

"I-" Pippin started, not even knowing what he was going to say. He embraced her lightly, wishing, for the millionth time, that he was young again. "I'm sorry, Diamond"


End file.
